The Estates of Head Canon
by lightblue-Nymphadora
Summary: All of the OTPs gang up on the author. Crack!fic


_**LbN: JR Boone told me to do my own version of his infamous train wreck fic, "STAHP". So I did. This is it. I apologize in advance for the crack, lol. **_

The author walked back into her house after a long day's work. She was looking forward to resting this evening – a stress-free night with some jazz music and maybe updating one of her fan fics. There was a bag near her laptop table that held a bunch of Pokeballs, and said Pokeballs held all of her OTPs. She went to pick it up, when she saw a huge spider and jumped a mile.

The Pokeballs all hit the floor and sprang open, releasing the characters into her living room.

"Oh shit."

"Oh shit is right! You haven't let us out in weeks!" Clarisse griped, helping Annabeth stand.

"That's not true! I – Santana!"

"What?" she asked, pouring a shot of vodka.

"Put that down! That has to last me through financial aid season!"

"Bitch, I'ma needz this if I have to deal with blondie tonight."

The author groaned and looked over to where Quinn was glaring at her. Meanwhile, the two Rachels from Pezberry and Faberry had wandered into the kitchen and were making tea on her Keurig. The Harry Potter delegation was eating up all of her Girl Scout Cookies, and the South of Nowhere and Van Helsing girls were in a lively discussion on one-shots. Namely, how she needed to write more with them in it.

"Wait a second!" she hollered, glancing into the living room.

Faith was currently playing Halo with Selene and Mirana as Willow, Erika and Alice watched.

"We can't have two Kate Beckinsale characters out at once. That's got to alter the space-time continuum or something. And why are you two even here? It's not like I actually write Van Helsing stuff."

"You used to," Aleera said, grinning. "You have a lovely twelve chapter saga tucked away in one of your old writing notebooks. It even has smut! Admittedly, it's bad smut, since you wrote it at the age of sixteen, but still."

"And can we talk about the fact that you've basically abandoned us?" Tonks asked.

"Preach!" Hermione and Pansy said.

"It's bad enough that I have to share Tonks with Pansy and Hermione, but now HARRY too?" Ginny said. "And you haven't written any T/G in ages!"

Annabeth and Clarisse both downed a shot in sympathy. Clarisse started doing party tricks with her sword.

"I have not abandoned you," the author contested.

"One-shots and drabbles don't count. It's like you only care about this Glee shit that you hate so much anyway."

"Hey now," Quinn said.

"No offense," Pansy said with a shrug, handing the blonde a shot.

"The fuck? Put my liquor back!" the author cried.

"Not until you explain some things," Santana said. "Namely, why I have to share my Rae Bear with Tubbers over there."

"It's because…hold on a second. Why are there two Rachels and only one Tonks? Shouldn't there be…four of you?"

"We can answer that!" the Rachels chimed in.

"It's because your particular head canon for me…rather, us," Pezberry Rachel began.

"Changes subtly depending upon the relationship," Faberry Rachel finished. "With Quinn, I'm far more…er…season one me, shall we say? I'm bossy and we fuss and keep each other on our toes."

"Whereas you subconsciously write me as more submissive to Santana," Pezberry Rachel explained. "In a good way. We balance each other out."

"So we're really two different characters, while Tonks is always Tonks," Faberry Rachel said.

The author was starting to get a headache. "I…need a nap."

"You still haven't answered my question!" Santana said.

"Or ours!" the HP group chorused.

"Am I seriously the only dude here?" Harry asked.

"Shut up, Harry," everyone said.

"Well fine," he said primly. "I can see when I'm not wanted." He hopped back into his Pokeball.

"Brilliant! All of you should follow Harry's example."

"That's literally the worst idea ever," Ashely said. "I've read those books."

"And what's with the Pokeballs?" Annabeth asked. "You're not even IN that fandom!"

"Yeah, I feel like the damn Genie off Aladdin," Santana said. "Phenomenal cosmic sexiness – itty bitty living space."

"It's just a space saver," the author whined. "It's easier to keep all of you that way."

"Bullshit," Faith called from the living room. "Your original characters have a whole neighborhood somewhere around your neocortex. You can fit us up there."

"How do you know about my original characters?"

"They're rowdy – especially Zealand. And Aisha and Donnie are totally fucking, aren't they?"

"Are you kidding me? You ship my original characters?"

"Not the point right now," Pansy said. "At least give us our own apartment space."

"Fine! I'll build you guys a neighborhood too. How does Femslash Gardens sound? They can be in the Estates of Head Canon, right next to Original Fic Glen." She drew a window into her imagination on the whiteboard so they could see their new homes.

There was some general debate over this (mostly because Santana, Ginny and Clarisse wanted to name it Pussy Pavilion), but it passed the vote after a minute.

"Fabulous," the author said. "Now, really…I just want to go to sleep!"

"Why do we have to share Rachel?" Quinn demanded.

"Because I go completely gay when writing and I ship you all! I can't help it! It's a thing. In fact…." She turned and wrote "FA" in front of "PEZBERRY" over one of the houses. "There. Home sweet home for ALL THREE OF YOU. Get going."

"Whoa!" Quinn yelled as she was forcibly expelled back into the author's headspace, along with both Rachels.

"Wait a fucking second!" Santana yelled, trying to remain present. "Is this where you're going with Come Ba –" She didn't get the rest out as the void sucked her back in.

"Right. Next," the author said. "Anyone remotely related to vampire and/or werewolf slaying, get going."

The Buffy, Underworld, and Van Helsing girls left then.

"Oh don't give me that look, Spencer," the author groaned, noticing the blonde pouting at her. "Wait…You are Ashley and Spencer, right? South of Nowhere, not Girl Trash?"

"Are you kidding me?" Ashely yelped. "You can't even tell our characters apart now?"

"You played the same damn characters! Just with more cursing and nudity…."

"Puzzleglobe was your best idea ever," Spencer said. "Our story was your best idea ever! Why did you just…stop?"

The author sighed. "I loved you two. I really did. But by the time I started posting fan fiction, South of Nowhere was going off the air. I didn't have the original material to keep me focused anymore so I just…moved on."

"Would you ever come back to us?" Ashley asked hopefully.

"Maybe. That goes for you two as well," she added to Alice and Mirana.

"Well that is a relief," Mirana said with a gentle smile. "Come, my dear Alice. We should see our new living quarters."

"I expect at least a drabble out of you by the end of the week," Ashley warned, before taking Spencer's hand and leaving as well.

The author glanced at Clarisse and Annabeth. "Well?" she asked, knowing they had a bone to pick with her too.

"Trilogy, bitch," Clarisse said. "Ow!" she yelped when Annabeth smacked her on the arm.

"Don't call names. But really, it was supposed to be a trilogy."

"I know, I know."

"And the third one probably would've been the best, frankly."

"Yeah, because Jackson would've got his shit together and my dad was going to get me a fucking fire-breathing dragon shaped motorcycle. I want my motorcycle!" Clarisse whined.

"What a baby," Hermione muttered.

Clarisse flashed her sword menacingly, to which Hermione just quirked an eyebrow and licked the tip of her wand.

"Before there's bloodshed!" the author called. "How about we all just…call it a night?"

"Fine," Annabeth said. "But we'll be back."

The author turned to glare at Tonks and her harem. "You lot too."

"Just one more question before we go," the metamorphmagus said. "What the hell is your deal with torturing my son?"

"Oh for the love of –"

"Dead in one fic, molested in the next, grievous bodily harm in another, you're about to make him go mad in the upcoming one –"

"Okay, A, he wasn't molested –"

"Debatable, the way you wrote it."

"And B, the upcoming fic is open-ended. He might not necessarily…you know what? I'm not doing this. Go home! I've had a rough day."

The witches cleared out, grumbling, and the author flopped down into a chair, running her hands through her hair.

"You didn't forget about me, did you?"

She jumped, hand over her heart as she finally noticed the figure who'd been lurking by the stairs. "Don't do that! And go, I'm not even writing you."

"Not yet," the figure said with a smirk, walking forward.

"No, not ever. I don't even ship you with the person everyone says I should ship you with. And I don't even have any ideas for a plot. So no."

The woman just smiled.

"Seriously," the author whined. "It's not going to happen."

"We'll see about that," Regina said, striding forward. She kissed the author on the forehead. "You can't ignore me forever."

And with that, she was gone.

The author slumped in her chair. "Fucking fandom…."


End file.
